


Friends With The Monster

by Zaffie



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: And They're Being Kind Of Rude, Because They Never Found Skye, But Now They Have, Don't Make Me Tag, Gen, I'll Spoil The Story, IDK Stuff Happens, In Which The Team Are Not BFFs, Plus I Don't Even Know Yet, Read The Damn Story, Skye Is Not A Fan, Tags Are Hard, This is an AU, Why Can't I Tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-03-19 01:39:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3591510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zaffie/pseuds/Zaffie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There wasn't time for Coulson's team to track down the Rising Tide, because Hydra surged and tried to take over. They failed, since they kind of suck. Coulson got his people in the air and they stayed there, segregated from the version of SHIELD that Victoria Hand is trying to keep afloat. All Coulson cares about is doing the best work he can from where he is -  and possibly figuring out who keeps hacking the damn Index, because the email alerts about it are starting to annoy him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's... well, it's something, I guess. I'm surprisingly enthusiastic about this one, but it's not a Skyeward fic (gasp) and it's AU and it's a lot of stuff. It's probably also a bit confusing to start with, but I promise things will sort themselves out? I can't explain too much yet ;) There are PLANS, you see. 
> 
> Anyway, please let me know what you think, as usual. Comments are my fav.
> 
> Oh, right, and I had a question. So you know how authors have, like, subscribers? What does that mean, exactly? I know I have a couple, and I assume they are among my SHIELD readers because duh. So, guys. Tell me what happens when you subscribe to an entire author. Do you get irritating alerts about all my stuff?

Skye spends most of her time shut in the van these days. It’s easier for her to calm down in there, maybe turn the quakes into something small, or just lock them inside. She likes to think she’s getting control, but there’s a reason that she’s parked in the middle of the most isolated part of north Canada she could find. She’s hurt too many people.

     It’s not like she’s deprived of social contact, anyway. She has her computer, and a very dodgy internet connection, so she can keep up with the Rising Tide forums at the very least. It hurts to see Miles’ name. He posts, sometimes, from the hospital, but he’s mostly too busy with physical therapy and stuff. He’s never tried to talk to Skye. She knows he blames her.

     Everyone was talking about SHIELD for a while after the big reveal – simple ‘we were right’ type stuff – but now that all seems to have disappeared. Skye would have expected more of a reaction to Hydra. No one’s said anything that she’s seen. It was more fun when it was just whispers of a shadowy organisation. Oh, yeah, and before the government started knocking on doors, asking questions and taking names. That’s made everyone very uncomfortable. Discussion steers back to safer ground. Still, Skye’s not super interested in SHIELD these days. Not since she met her father.

     He’s probably a big reason why she feels so uncomfortable, even though she’s in hiding. She’d like to be able to keep tabs on Cal, but he’s a pro at moving off-grid. Skye thinks she might have inherited that, though, so hopefully he can’t find her either. The plan is for _no one_ to be able to find her.

     The Index has occupied a lot of Skye’s attention lately. She’s done some hacking, and learnt a lot more than she actually wanted to. The attitude towards these people – Gifted, Enhanced, Other, whatever they’re calling them now – unsettles her.

     A couple of times, warnings flash up while she hacks. SHIELD wants her to cease and desist, they’re monitoring her, etc etc. Skye doesn’t take any of it seriously. The messages seem automated, designed for scaremongering, and she doesn’t scare easily. Besides, surely SHIELD has more on their plate right now than someone doing some harmless digging around the Index.

*

The Bus is too cramped for eight fully grown humans. That’s what Bobbi thinks, anyway, but obviously Coulson doesn’t agree with her, or he wouldn’t have packed them all on here and taken off.

     She wakes up in the morning and gets ready in her bunk, just to try and feel more professional, but it doesn’t work when she walks out the door and nearly runs straight into Hunter, who’s strolling through the lounge area with baggy pyjama pants low on his waist and a toothbrush clamped between his teeth.

     “Oharble,” he says pleasantly.

     Bobbi says, “What?” and then regrets it.

     Hunter removes the toothbrush, trailing white flecks on his chin, and says, “Hi, Bobbi.”

     “You can’t walk around like that,” she tells him.

     “Like what?”

     Bobbi moves her hand up and down, encompassing the sagging pants, the shirtless torso and the toothbrush. “ _That_.”

     “I’m in my own home, you know.”

     “Other people have to work in your home.”

     He glares at her. “See, this is why I divorced you.”

     She snorts, “ _You_ divorced _me?_ ” and then walks past him as if the conversation has ended.

     “You’re in denial!” Hunter yells after her retreating back.

     Bobbi goes down to the cargo bay after that, hoping for some intelligent conversation. She and Mack have a friendship which goes back years, after all, even if he’s been planted on the plane to keep an eye on Coulson’s ‘rogue division’ of SHIELD. Bobbi’s more neutral about the mission than Mack is. So far, she hasn’t really seen anything from Coulson that makes her want to be especially loyal to him – but then Victoria Hand is running a new SHIELD that’s identical to the old, and Bobbi does feel like it’s time for them to move past certain things. Move forwards.

     Fitzsimmons are arguing about something, which happens, but Ward isn’t training. Unusual, but easily explained by the fact that Mack has moved one of the SUVs into the space which the punching bag usually occupies. He’s lying underneath it, legs sticking out.

     Bobbi skirts around his feet and ducks down by the front tyre. “What are you doing?”

     “Just having a look,” he says. Mack never likes to explain himself.

     She straightens up again. “Good chat,” she mumbles. She wants to go and train, maybe, but if Ward’s not down here he’ll probably be jogging the corridors, and Bobbi doesn’t want to train with him or Melinda May.

     That’s the big problem with Coulson’s little team. On paper, it sounds like a good idea, but they just never seem to _do_ anything. Bobbi likes _doing_ things.

     A klaxon wails while she’s thinking, and so she takes the stairs two at a time and makes her way to the briefing room. She’s one of the first in there, but the others trickle in gradually. Ward stands in a corner with his arms folded, Fitzsimmons stand so close that they’re practically conjoined, and May hovers near the door as if she might need to leave at any moment. They’re not exactly the picture of a smoothly running team.

     “I’ve been monitoring the Index,” Coulson announces, and he throws it up on the screen to emphasise his point, “and we’ve had a lot of hacks in the past two weeks. Intense hacks. Someone’s learning everything they can about the Gifted.” He pauses, expecting a reaction. What he gets is blank, bored silence. “I think it’s something that we should look into.”

     “Co-ordinates,” May requests at last, and everyone else takes that as a sign that they’re going somewhere. They scatter without waiting for a dismissal.

*

Jemma is reminded, most days, just how lucky she is that Fitz decided to follow her into the field. She’d imagined that it would be… well, _different_ , but she hadn’t pictured it quite like this. It just feels unfriendly, cold and unfriendly, both the team and the cases. Even the science, which is fascinating, has some otherworldly qualities that make it less familiar than usual.

     Fitz is really the only comfortable, homey thing left, and Jemma doesn’t want him to change, even if she does wish he’d spend a bit less time holed up in the lab.

     “I’m working, Jemma,” he protests when she tries to drag him out to investigate the Canadian wilderness they’re landed in. “I don’t interrupt you when _you’re_ working.”

     It’s the silly night-night gun again. He’s never satisfied with that design.

     “Fitz, this place is fascinating,” Jemma pleads. “We haven’t been off the plane in _weeks_ , don’t you even want to walk around?”

     He turns his back, stubbornly, and Jemma sighs.

     “You don’t want to get in Ward’s way, anyway,” he tells her. “He and Coulson are going to bring that hacker back here and I bet Ward will be angry if he sees you standing around outside.”

     Fitz does have a point. Ward is antisocial at best and usually just plain rude. Morse has gone outside, though, and she’s standing in the snow and smiling. Hunter’s out there too. Jemma just wants to be able to do something the rest of the team does, but she feels like she needs Fitz with her. Hunter’s sarcasm is hard to understand, and Jemma has a teensy bit of hero worship going on for Morse. It makes her awkward around both of them, and besides, they have that whole divorce-dynamic going on. She doesn’t want to get in the middle of that.

     “It’s good for you to get fresh air!” she tells Fitz.

     “Tell that to Mack,” he retorts.

     Well, yes, Mack is lying underneath cars again. They’d taken the SUV he was working on to pick up the hacker, so he’d switched to the other one without saying anything. Of course, he probably wants to work on Lola, but Jemma doesn’t think Coulson would let him. He seems to love that car.

     “Mack probably doesn’t like fresh air,” she says helplessly.

     “Well neither do I.”

     There’s a bit of competition between Fitz and the mechanic. It worries Jemma, because she’d never thought of Fitz as a very competitive person. Also, she doesn’t think that Mack has any idea how Fitz feels. The thing is, Fitz gets so offended every time someone goes to Mack with a problem that should be _Fitz’s_ problem – but then Fitz never _says_ anything about it, so how is anyone supposed to know? Jemma thinks that she should say something on Fitz’s behalf, but there’s not exactly a very open atmosphere around here. She doesn’t know who she’d talk to. Coulson seems too high up, May and Ward both terrify her and Mack himself doesn’t seem to like talking very much. She expects that Fitz feels the same

     So they’re stuck only talking to each other, really, which, well, no wonder they’ve been arguing more than usual lately. It can’t be healthy for them.

     May walks through the lab on her way outside. Briskly, she says, “We’re taking off again as soon as Coulson’s back.”

     “Okay,” Jemma says, flustered. She checks around the lab for anything that needs to be strapped down and then stares longingly outside, at the snow. May is shooing Morse and Hunter back inside and Jemma knows she’s missed her chance.

     Next time, she thinks.

*

As it turns out, she should have been worried about SHIELD.

     Skye is leaning on her computer monitor, scrolling through lists of names again when the door of the van slides open.

     There are honest-to-god men in black standing outside, with suits and ties and sunglasses.

     Skye presses her lips together, and then she turns towards them and plasters on a smile and says, “Hey,” like it’s no big deal.

     The taller of the two men steps forward and whips a bag over her head. Skye rolls her eyes inside the cloth blackness and thinks that at least they had good timing. She’s dressed, so that’s a plus. It’s much harder to be brave and stoic when you’re not wearing a bra.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but it's basically covering ground already covered, and I don't want to rewrite an actual scene from the show because that is boring as hell. So once we get past the initial "hey that already happened" stuff I'll do longer chapters, I assume. IDK yet. 
> 
> Let me know what you think, of course.

They can’t keep her in an interrogation room forever.

     That’s what Skye is telling herself, anyway, but she has too much knowledge about the people on the Index to believe that SHIELD will let her just live out a peaceful life.

     They’ve been asking why she was hacking the Index. Skye made up some nonsense about the Rising Tide, about simple curiosity and anger at government secrets. She doesn’t think she did a very good job of lying brazenly in the face of danger. How long will it be before the penny drops, and they lock her up too?

     The tall, hot one is uber suspicious. He keeps asking what her name is. Skye _does_ have three to choose from, but she’s already told him the most important one. He’s sure she’s lying.

     Coulson, who is obviously the boss, seems a little bit more laid-back. Or, like he _wants_ to be laid-back, but he can’t quite get there… probably because from what Skye’s seen, Tall-And-Hot is trying to challenge Coulson’s authority at every turn. It’s got to be awkward for him.

     She thinks about shaking things up, but she’s not so sure that would help. For a start, she might not destroy the right stuff – and besides, it’s not that easy to control or predict a quake. Kind of like in real life. When she feels it coming, Skye squashes it down inside. It hurts, but not badly, so it must have been a small one.

     This is totally crazy. When did her life become this? She’s just been kidnapped by the shadowy government organisation she’s been obsessed with since she first learned to type and all she can worry about is whether or not her _earthquake power_ is going to explode everything. Seriously.

     The situation puts Skye in a sarcastic mood.

     “You really are tall, dark, and handsome, aren’t you?” she asks Tall-And-Hot when he comes back into the room. “Down to a T. No manners, though.”

     “Shut up,” he says stiffly.

     Skye slouches in her chair and looks up at him. “How did you end up here, anyway? Like, becoming a secret agent and getting a personality transplant? Or were you always this wooden? I hope you never had to do high school drama.”

     “Do you talk when you get nervous?” he asks.

     Skye puts her head on one side, considering. “Not really. I usually punch people when I get nervous.” She gives him a meaningful look. “Your crotch is definitely within punching ranch.”

     Tall-And-Hot takes a hasty step back. “Why don’t you tell us who told you to hack the Index? Was it Hydra?” He looks almost hopeful.

     _Weirdo_ , Skye thinks. “I hacked it for _me_ , dumbass. It was plain curiosity, okay? Can I go now?”

   She’s getting stressed out. Her heartrate’s rising; she can feel it. Crap. Skye tries to breathe deep, to keep the tremors inside, but she can’t quite…

     The table shakes.

     Tall-And-Hot is instantly aware. “What was that?”

     “I kicked the table,” Skye says through gritted teeth. “It’s a sign of frustration, robot man.”

     He’s staring at her, putting the pieces together. Skye sits on her hands and bites the inside of her cheek and tries to control it, tries not to let anything else out. Keep calm. Don’t look so worried.

     “The Index,” Tall-And-Hot says slowly. He’s figuring it out.

     The quake subsides. Skye puts a brave face back on and says, “You really are a robot, aren’t you? You’re having trouble processing.” She smirks.

     He turns without a word and goes for the door.

*

“Sir,” Jemma says, trying to sound respectful and puzzled and not at all insubordinate, “I just think if I knew what I was _looking for_ it would be a lot easier to find something.”

     “Just use your intuition,” Coulson tells her unhelpfully. “Try and find anything that shouldn’t be there.”

     They’ve arrived at the door of the interrogation cell, which makes Jemma more than a little uncomfortable. Their team is relatively new, and they’ve been dealing with Hydra most of the time. There hasn’t been much space for criminals in holding on the Bus itself.

     “Should I try and ask her questions? See if I can worm some information out of her?”

     Coulson says, “No,” very quickly, which is a little bit offensive. Like he thinks she wouldn’t be any good at it. She definitely has more people skills than _Ward_.

     Jemma is feeling unusually confrontational today, so when she enters the cell and the person inside says, “Who the hell are _you?_ ” in a distinctly unfriendly voice, Jemma thinks, _good_. She feels like an argument.

     “I’m going to take a sample of your blood,” she says, waving her test tube. “I have big needles and it’s going to hurt if you don’t sit still.” She thinks she sounds quite nasty, actually.

     The woman jumps up off her chair and backs away. “The hell you are.”

     “I can ask Ward to come in and restrain you, if you’d like.”

     The other girl frowns. “Ward. He’s the tall, hot one, yeah?”

     “I hadn’t really thought about it,” Jemma says defensively.

     The girl laughs. “Of course not. Do you all, like, live here? On a plane?”

     “How do you know it’s a plane?”

     She points towards the ceiling. “There’s a ‘fasten seatbelt’ sign. I’m Skye, by the way. Are you SHIELD too?”

     “Yes,” Jemma says. She’s finding all the chatter slightly off-putting. Shouldn’t someone be more sullen and angry as a prisoner? Less talkative? “Do you want to sit down?”

     “Why? Oh, blood test? Nope. Not happening.”

     “I could sedate you?”

     “Isn’t it, like, illegal to kidnap innocent people and take their blood? You could clone me or something. For a clone army. That seems unfair.”

     “We don’t want your blood for a clone army,” Jemma sighs in exasperation.

     “Okay, then why do you want it?”

     “Well I’d love to know, but Coulson won’t tell me, because apparently we’re not a team as much as a bureaucracy around here-” she cuts herself off, realising that she’s blabbing _far_ too much information to a prisoner.

     Skye laughs. “Working for SHIELD sounds a lot like I thought it would.”

     “No, no, it’s great,” Jemma corrects her. “Now, are you going to sit still or should I call Ward?”

     “Call away,” the other woman says airily, waving one hand. “I’m happy to be manhandled like a piece of meat.”

     Obviously someone’s been listening to the whole thing (Jemma flushes with embarrassment when she realises) and Ward comes in through the door with his most blank, nasty expression firmly in place. He stomps over to Skye and moves as if to grab her arms – and then a tremor ripples through the room and Ward is knocked off-balance.

     Jemma grabs hold of the table when everything shakes again, and she stares at Skye, who seems completely unfazed. In fact, when a stronger shake starts, Skye carefully steps around Ward and darts out of the door.

*

Skye doesn’t get far. She didn’t really expect that this would result in a daring escape; she was actually hoping the quake would be bigger than it was.

     Sure, she makes it out of the door of the interrogation cell, which is nice, and she’s halfway down a grey and dangerous-looking hallway when a blond woman steps out in front of her, takes careful aim through the violent shaking, and fires.

     Skye thinks she might die, so she’s pleasantly surprised when the pain is brief and she passes out fast.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know it's been a while, but I actually totally forgot about this story! So that's my bad. Meanwhile, here, have an update, and I'll feel appropriately guilty about leaving this hanging for so long. 
> 
> It's a lot of dialogue, but since the driving force behind this AU is a change in the way everyone interacts, I figured that made sense. With any luck it's in-character enough to be fun. Hope you all enjoy!

Skye wakes up with a sharp intake of breath. She takes a minute, eyes darting around, and then she sits up and says, “What _was_ that?”

     Jemma, who has been put in charge of the violent, earth-shaking fugitive, is not feeling talkative. “A sedative,” she answers shortly.

     “A gun sedative?” Skye asks. “I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck. Or maybe like we all went out and got outrageously drunk. Did that happen?”

     “No.” Jemma wishes that Skye would stop talking so that she could concentrate on her work. It’s bad enough having to turn the lab into a glass-walled isolation room without someone talking and interrupting her all the time.

     “Too bad,” Skye mutters. “I could use a stiff drink.” She climbs off the gurney that Ward had draped her on and walks around her little prison. “What’s this?”

     “My lab.”

     Skye’s already lost interest. She’s examining the crook of her elbow. “Did you take my blood?”

     Finally, Jemma cracks. “Yes,” she snaps, furiously, “and I’m trying to analyse it right now, so could you just be quiet? Are you ever quiet?”

     Skye shrugs. “Not really. How can you analyse things if I’m in your lab?”

     “We moved everything out of the lab.”

     The woman taps on the glass. “Is this some sort of an upgrade from the last place you kept me? It looks a lot more fragile.”

     “It’s bulletproof,” Jemma says. She sounds smug, she realises. That’s a bit embarrassing. “It’s a great lab.” She looks very firmly and deliberately at her work, trying to ignore Skye.

     “Uh huh,” Skye agrees. “Got it. You love your lab, loud and clear.” She hops up on one of the benches and leans her head against the glass, staring at Jemma. “So what happens now? Do you gut me and examine my stomach contents?”

     Jemma can’t resist a quick glance over her shoulder, but she turns her head away from Skye quickly. “No, I don’t think so.”

     “I can tell you what my last meal was, if you’re desperate, anyway,” Skye says, but then she has to pause to think. “Actually, I’m not sure I remember. It was probably drive-through.”

     Against her better judgement, Jemma can’t help feeling a stab of pity. Living all alone, in a van in the middle of nowhere, and not remembering what your last meal was or knowing where your next one comes from? It doesn’t sound perfect.

     Fitz comes downstairs. “Jemma, Coulson wants to talk to you.”

     Jemma gestures to her work. “I’m not done with the blood sample yet.”

     “Right, plus someone has to babysit me,” Skye chimes in. She’s cottoned on fast to the way things work.

     “I’ll stay down here,” Fitz offers. He looks quite pleased about it, really. Probably because Skye’s _pretty_ , Jemma thinks, venomously, and then wonders where the thought came from. She’s not usually that sort of a person.

     “All right,” she says hastily, feeling flustered, and she abandons her analysis and walks up the stairs.

*

Bobbi is still arguing with Coulson when there’s a timid knock at the door.

     “Come in,” Coulson says immediately, and Simmons sticks her head into the room.

     “Sorry, sir, Fitz said you wanted me.”

     “Agent Morse and I were just finishing,” Coulson tells her. He’s looking at Bobbi while he says it, so she takes the hint and slips past Simmons and out of the room.

     The hallway outside Coulson’s office is suspiciously empty, and so is the lounge. May’s probably in the cockpit, but Bobbi thinks that someone else should be here.

     “Hunter?” she says to the empty air.

     He materialises out of nowhere at the sound of his name, jumping out of a door to her left. “Yeah?”

     “What are you doing?” Bobbi doesn’t even know what room that door leads to.

     “It’s the larder,” Hunter says cheerfully. He holds up a fistful of cookies. “Want one?”

     “What? No, I don’t.”

     “Suit yourself,” Hunter shrugs, and crams them into his mouth.

     “Were you listening to me and Coulson?” she asks.

     “Yep,” the man tells her, popping the ‘p’. Crumbs spray the air around her and Bobbi takes a couple of steps backwards, curling her lip.

     “That’s eavesdropping.”

     “It’s knowledge gathering. Aren’t we all supposed to be spies?” He swallows, loudly, and adds, “Why were you so upset anyway?”

     “I’m still upset,” Bobbi corrects him. “It’s about the hacker. Whoever she is, she’s not human, and I don’t want her here. It’s dangerous. We don’t have anywhere near enough information about these – anomalies. What if she’s a plant?”

     “Plant, like, animal, vegetable, or mineral?”

     “No, not twenty questions!” Bobbi exclaims. She throws her hands up in exasperation. “Why do I even talk to you?” Hunter’s eyes are hot on her back when she stalks away, and, true to form, he jogs to catch up with her.

     “Hey, whoa, Bob. I didn’t mean to poke fun, okay? But you said _plant_ , like maybe she’s a fern or something.”

     “I meant plant as in mole,” Bobbi tries. Hunter snorts, and she realises that this isn’t helping. “Mole as in _spy_.”

     “Yeah, but, we’re all spies here.”

     “Would you just pretend to understand me for five seconds?”

     Hunter presses his lips together – a mouth-shrug. Bobbi hates it when he does that. _Hates_ it. “I don’t know, Bobbi,” he says. “From where I’m standing, you’re worried because you want to protect everyone on the plane. So if Coulson thinks like you, but from a higher-up position, doesn’t that mean he’s worried because he wants to protect all of SHIELD?”

     Bobbi feels herself deflate, even with the ‘higher-up’ comment pricking at her. Coulson doesn’t get to pull rank just because he’s one of Fury’s favourites – except, she knows Hunter’s right, and Coulson is the team leader, and maybe he’s trying to keep Skye around to learn something. Learn something that could help Hand, and the rest of SHIELD, and by extension, the rest of the world, maybe.

     It’s a big leap, but it makes Bobbi feel better. She’s not going to let Hunter know that, though. “Regardless of his motives, Coulson’s being stubborn,” she tells Hunter, “and this is a bad idea that we’re all going to regret.”

     “Pot calling the kettle stubborn,” he mutters, but he shuts his mouth fast when she turns to glare at him.

*

Skye’s just starting to get bored when she sees something interesting, and so she climbs up on her knees on the bench and presses her nose and palms to the glass.

     “Hey,” she says.

     The curly-haired man glances up at her. “Hey yourself,” he returns. “Why are you up there?”

     “There’s someone under that car,” Skye tells him. “Look, over there. I see feet. Who’s that? All that’s left of the last person you kidnapped?”

     “ _No_ ,” the Scottish man says defensively. He’s an easy mark; sensitive, a little bit touchy and eager to impress, all at once. Skye thinks she could have fun with this, if she wasn’t so nervous about her own fate.

     “Then who is it?”

     “That’s Mack,” the man says reluctantly. He doesn’t like Mack. His voice makes it evident.

     “You don’t like Mack.”

     His eyes go wide and he stares at Skye like she’s some kind of witch. “T-that’s not true,” he stammers.

     “Sure it’s not.” Skye waits, and then she asks, “What’s your name, anyway? You’re Scottish, right?”

     “I’m Scottish,” he confirms.

     “And the other one’s English. What is this? SHIELD International?”

     “No,” he says, but his face is flushing. “Look, stop asking so many questions.”

     “I can’t help it if I’m curious,” Skye says. “Why is Mack under a car, then?”

     “I don’t know.”

     “Looks silly,” Skye observes. She sits back down on the bench, tucks her hands under her thighs and waits for her show of solidarity to get her something.

     Sure enough, after a minute or two of silence, the man says, “Fitz.”

     “What?”

     “I’m Fitz.”

     Skye grins. “Cool name.” She climbs up on the bench again and says, “Whose Corvette?”

     “What?”

     “The red one. Whose car is it?”

     “Oh, that’s Lola. She’s Coulson’s car.”

     Skye snorts. “Coulson’s car has a name?” She grins, and bounces on her toes. “That’s hilarious. Is he having a midlife crisis? Will he buy a wig? I think he’d look great with a wig. A blond one, maybe.”

     “He doesn’t need a wig.” Fitz is glaring at her, and Skye doesn’t know why until he says, “You’re standing on my workspace.”

     “Sorry. You want me to take my boots off?”

     “No, I want you to get down,” he explains.

     “But I can’t see so much from down there.”

     “You’re not supposed to be seeing things. You’re a prisoner.”

     Skye sighs, but she jumps off the bench. She walks around the lab instead, touching things. It’s weird, but Skye likes to see with her fingers as well as her eyes. It helps her think, when everything is tactile.

     If the glass really is bulletproof, then she might not be able to shatter it. Skye searches the lab for weak spots, and eventually she decides that the door at the back might be her best bet. She’ll have to wait, though, for a really big quake, and there’s no way for her to predict when that might happen. Not for the first time, she reflects that learning to control her power would help. A lot. This is all Cal’s fault.

    “What are you doing?” Fitz asks suspiciously, when she’s spent too much time over by the other door. He hesitates, and then leans forward and lowers his voice. “Did you really shake the whole plane before?”

     “No,” Skye lies. She’s anxious, and unsettled, so she walks back to Fitz and tries to keep her mind busy. “Got a family, Fitz?”

     “I shouldn’t tell you that,” he says primly. “You might blackmail me.”

     “Blackmail you with what?” Skye remembers something. “Hey where’s my phone?”

     “Ward took it.”

     She remembers which one Ward is. “The tall guy with the jaw, yeah? Can he give it back?”

     Fitz opens his mouth to reply and then the ringing sound of feet on the stairs interrupts him. He shuts it again when two women – the English one and someone blond – come back down.

     “Don’t talk to her, Fitz,” the blond one advises.

     “I’m going to finish her blood analysis,” the other one announces. Skye thinks Fitz said her name before. Jenna? Jemma.

     “She’s standing right here,” Skye reminds them all, but only Fitz gives her a twitchy, guilty glance. Grimly, Skye thinks that after they get the blood results back, this is going to get a lot harder. Right now, she’s innocently-locked-in-a-lab until proven… what had Cal called it? Inhuman. Not to be confused with inhumane, which describes her father.

     Skye wonders if they really will dissect her.


End file.
